


Stay Away Shocks Me Awake

by authoresswithoutwords



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Healing, M/M, Madness, Pre-Slash, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 06:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18255821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoresswithoutwords/pseuds/authoresswithoutwords
Summary: Everyone has a soul mark. Peter's says the very charming "Stay away, you fucking monster!"He'd never thought that he'd welcome these words.





	Stay Away Shocks Me Awake

His mind was ravaged after the fire, and strained after healing, and shattered after his alpha’s betrayal. Nothing but revenge and madness consumed it. All his thoughts were turned to blond laughter, smoky fire, endless pain and painful red. Oh, how he longed to get that wretch in his claws, shredding her to pieces, torturing her for _hours_ as his family suffered!

But first, he needed to correct this mishap. His mind may not be as healthy and sane as it once was, but it was better now, good enough that he knew that something had gone wrong.

Back then, in the woods, why had he bitten that wheezing teenager? That didn’t matter. He was an alpha, and he needed a pack, and he didn’t want to have a pack with Derek, betrayer and runner.

The better question was: Why did the wheezy teenager deny him his rights as his alpha? Why wasn’t he the loyal beta he was supposed to be?

This needed to be rectified. An alpha healed better if he had a pack, was stronger and more durable. Obviously, if he was stronger, he could kill blond laughter better. Oh, how he would rip into her! Shred her into teeny tiny pieces, and shatter those pieces like his mind had! He’d spread her all over the land to serve as a warning to all others. This was _his_ territory, and his alone, and they all should stay away if they knew what was good for them.

First, he needed to lure her here, that deadly blond laughter. For that, he needed to punish the others involved in his pack’s slaughter. He’d slain the running, betraying, leaving alpha, and he’d executed the lying bureaucrat. Next were the hot fire setters. He’d not dirty his claws on them, no, no. For them, he’d take their own weapon and turn it against them. Fire, red hot fire, for them as for his pack, his family, his life. Would they scream like they’d screamed? Would they beg and plead like they’d begged and pleaded? He couldn’t wait to find out.

But to get the blond laughter here, and keep her here, and make her spread her painful red. Oh yes, it would squirt out of her, so far! But he’d keep her there, keep her alive, keep her until she felt the same smoky fire and endless pain they’d felt! But to do that, he needed a pack. And for pack, he’d bitten a wheezy teenager. He’d call, and call again, and again, until he came. He’d make a loyal beta out of him.

He only needed to try hard enough.

 

It was later. There were some people here to see him. Gawk at him as if he was a circus attraction! As if he was in a freak show! Ugly enough, scarred enough, untamed enough.

Let them gawk, let them stare.

Let them stare as his claws showed them their mistakes, as painful red ran down their bodies and pooled on the ground. Yes, show them what they’d done wrong. Show them their faults and flaws and mistakes and _make them pay_.

Cautious sniff.

Old and familiar smell.

Oh. Betrayer, runner, kissing blond laughter. Omega-smell.

Weak.

Unfamiliar smell.

Ah. Half-forgotten. Beta-smell. Wheezy teenager without being wheezy.

Weaker still.

Play dead, play dead, play opossum. Everything okay, nothing wrong, brain dead, reflexes dead, everything alright.

Step closer and feel the freak’s claws.

Please, please, step closer, please.

Set the monster free.

 

Later still. Full Moon, blessing of the Sky Mother, kisses of the Star Fairies.

Rising and running.

Tearing and killing.

Wolfsbane.

Blond laughter had arrived.

 

Plot uncovered.

He’d understood now, he’d finally got it now. Missed someone, he missed someone! Clay fingers gave knowledge, gave wisdom, gave blessing. Tear him apart, tear him to tiny little pieces, send them to blond laughter, frighten her, make her fear like they did! Yes, yes, good plan.

Little beta calling.

Don’t worry, little beta, no longer wheezy teenager, your alpha always comes for you, always, always, not like traitorous, running alpha. Always there for you.

 

Trick. A trick. Little beta needed no help.

Trick back.

Fancy technology. Send a message, send it, send it! Lure her here, little blond laughter, slaughter her, warn blond laughter, make the laughter get stuck in her thin, breakable neck! Make her regret, make her fear and cry and endless pain like they did!

Make little beta submit. Protect him like betas should, make him protect him like betas should. Teach him pack.

Make him help kill – tear – rip – shred – endless pain the blond laughter!

No more smoky fire.

Never again.

 

Chasing little beta.

Why chasing? Beta prey? Beta play prey?

No matter, no matter.

Wolfsbane, arrow wood, gun oil.

Little blond laughter.

Prey found.

 

“Stay away, you fucking monster!”

 

It was like a shock of cold water.

His soul mark, the words he’d carried with him for almost ten – no, fifteen, _don’t forget the coma_ – years! Finally, they were said. Having caused him so much grief in his adolescence, and way beyond, even if he didn’t want to admit it, finally voiced, the words now brought him the cold relief of clarity, of sanity.

Why? What part of his depraved brain had decided it was a good idea to go on a killing spree to lure fucking _Kate Argent_ here? Did he want the whole thing to end in death? Was this an elaborate suicide plan of his subconscious? And damn it, the risks he’d taken! Anyone could have seen him in that video store, or in that bus! How had he got so damn lucky? The nurse! Had he let himself be blackmailed by a fucking nurse in a damn hospital in his cursed hometown? She knew of his secrets, was dangerous. He’d have to dispose of her as quickly as possible.

And the beta!

First, he bit someone without their consent, and then, he wanted him to immediately understand what being a wolf meant?

And- Oh God. Laura. Laura. Beautiful, small, smart, little Laura. Candy of his eye, pleasure of his soul ( _after you, Cora, but never ever tell her that; it’ll be our secret – promise, uncle, I promise_ – smoky fire, endless pain, painful red – Laura. Little Laura.). Dead. Slain by his hands. His claws. No regret. He’d felt no regret whatsoever.

Peter – that was his name, Peter, he was Peter, not the revenge-driven monster he had been, he was Peter. Peter stepped forward, and out of his shift, feeling the bones and muscles and tendons return to their usual places with silent sighs of relief. The pain he’d felt throughout his body lessened. The scars faded. He breathed deeply.

It was good to be back, sane and whole.

But still out for vengeance.

Soulmate! His soulmate was here! He had talked to him, said his words, marked Peter with them. And ran before Peter could return the favour. But no, it was natural in that situation for his soulmate to have run. He didn’t know yet that he didn’t have anything to fear from Peter, nothing more than some bruises during lovemaking and the short sting of the Turning Bite. But Peter would show him, would find him and say his words and shower him in love, trail kisses all over him, mark him thoroughly in his scent and never let him go.

But first, he needed to clean up his mess.

 

It was concerning easy to sneak up to the betray- to Derek’s hide-out in their ho-  the burned husk of their home. Finally, he learned of his beta’s name. Scott McCall, accompanied by Stiles Stilinski, a flailing and talkative genius. And human. With a familiar scent. Familiar, yet so far away, stale before reaching his nose.

Ah.

This was his soulmate, then.

Peter had actually come here after disposing of the blackmailing nurse in the hopes of overhearing some information that could help him, but now, he couldn’t listen to the surely very important words. Instead, his ears focused on that heartbeat, slightly fast and unfamiliarly familiar, familiarly unfamiliar. His soulmate. He listened to the deep breaths he took, to the loud words he said, to the clapping of his hand against his leg. His soulmate.

He had found his soulmate.

Finally.

When his soulmate left, Peter had trouble staying behind. He knew he had to get back to the hospital before someone found him missing. He knew he had to keep this alibi until Kate Argent was dead, preferably longer. He had to pretend to recover, surprisingly and slowly, staying hidden from hunters and other threats. He had to complete his revenge, the madness still screaming out their vengeance for the blond laughter, but he had to keep a clean west.

He had a mate to live for now, after all.

 

And when all was over and done, and Kate Argent had died a long and gruesome death, and Peter Hale had awoken three months later, and Derek accepted his lie about Laura being killed by a hunter and the power passing onto Peter and healing him, and Scott McCall, the disloyal beta, had gone out in a blaze of disbelieving disappointment and passionate love, poisoned by his hopefully-future mother-in-law, and Peter had formed a new pack, a strong pack, and Derek brought the trembling and grieving form of Scott’s best friend, Peter smiled at his soulmate and he said,

 

“You must be Stiles.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> I'm always thankful for comments, constructive or otherwise, and happy about each Kudo!


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